She talks to wolves...

It is with supreme pleasure and excitement that I announce the debut of my new website:

http://www.deborahjbrannon.com

Please, go, look! Tell me what you think.

And, to tempt you even more:

There is free fiction, some previously unpublished online.
There is free poetry, some of which you may not have seen before.
There is a sampler of my academic papers, if that's your cup of tea.

And... there is a SURPRISE!

I meant to debut my website tonight, yet it seems that my provider has gone down. Alas. Tomorrow, my dear friends.

Yet all is not lost! Please, enjoy this short poem that I wrote the other day:

Southern Scribes
by Deborah J. Brannon

It is summer and magnolia blossoms
shimmer in the heat, white parchment
limp and languid under a Southern sun.
They dream of the soft calligraphy
in a sudden rainstorm, warm drops
teasing shudders from the petals,
scrawling unspoken poetry in strange
cadences across their aging pages.

* * *



PSAs:
erzebet is selling some remarkable books, especially if your tastes run toward fairy tales. Help her and Papaveria Press flourish! (You can find the book sale posts by going to her journal.)

erzebet is also selling some absolutely lovely wall art: bone scrolls made of beads and bone and flowers. Puck and Dragon Fly.

Fantasy Magazine is hosting a contest to wind a copy of Fangland by John Marks: all you have to do is submit a piece of flash fiction recasting a classic story in a contemporary setting.

upstart_crow is looking for a cover for her forthcoming book The Memory Palace (autobiographical poetry collection, coming soon from Norilana Books in 2009). If you've any artistic visual skills, it could be you're the designer!

deliasherman has posted the submissions guidelines for the second collection of Interfictions: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing. Reading period begins October 1st!

Whew. Some exciting stuff there.

Have you perchance heard of a little anthology called Interfictions: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing? Brought to us by Delia Sherman and Theodora Goss, it is a positively brilliant collection of genre-breaking fiction. I read it last summer and enjoyed nearly every bit of it, which is a fine thing indeed to say about such an eclectic collection of stories.

You want tales of 12th century Prester John, beyond the edges of the map and adrift in a land of monsters? You want social commentary and reimagined fairy tales? You want a harrowing interpretation of Joseph's (of the coat of many colors) life? How about a shoe shop where shoes aren't sold? Or a distraught girlfriend who, forsaken by her man, mails herself to him and ends up living in the dead letter office?

I'll stop there. Hopefully you already have several clear reasons of why you should pick up this book. Now, to the point of my mentioning it...

The Interstitial Arts Foundation is holding an auction which they hope will help fund a second Interfictions anthology. I really want this to happen. And their auction idea is excellent-- from the post by ellen_kushner:

"April 30th marks the first anniversary of the publication of Interfictions, the first ever collection of Interstitial writing, edited by deliasherman & Theodora Goss. To celebrate - and raise money for the Interstitial Arts Foundation (and so we can put out another volume) - we are inviting people to create a piece of jewelry inspired by any story in Interfictions, which we will auction ONLINE to help support IAF. K. Tempest Bradford, an Interfictions author who has kindly consented to organize this event, tells you how :

What: Jewelry inspired by stories in Interfictions to be auctioned off for an IAF fundraiser.

Why: Because jewelry is pretty and pretty things are awesome.

To participate: send an email to IAFbead at g maild otc om expressing your interest. If you already have some idea what you will make and what story it's based on, let us know.

What we're accepting: Any jewelry or jewelry-like objects -- necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings, pins/brooches, etc. We'd love to get stuff that people can and will wear. We love other art inspired by Interfictions, we just can't use it for this particular project.

How many can I submit?: You may submit up to 7 pieces of jewelry or up to 5 matching sets.

Deadline: We would love to have all entries in by April 26th because the auction starts the last week of April. But if you can send the pieces in any time before that, it would be extra helpful. If you need more time, ask and we can work it out."

Doesn't that sound brilliant? I know I have a couple of jewelers on my friends page and it is my sincere hope that you guys will think about participating in this charity auction.

For my part, I already have a concept clear in my mind and can only hope that I'll find the funds to purchase the materials so that I can get my piece done in time.

So, I have this friend named Mia who makes beautiful things.

They're pendants: small, ceramic, painted in metallic and pearlescent and flat paints, often with different types of media mixed in: flowers, maybe, or sparkling bubbles or little images.

But there's so much more than that: these pendants are stories. They're little poetic fairy tales, phrases built from words cut from old fairy tale books that, when oriented just so by Creatrix Mia, transform the world. These little poems are powerful. They're the distilled essence of folk and fairy tale and myth, and we all know where those live in the human consciousness.

So far, I am the exceedingly lucky owner of two such pendants, with negotiations in progress for a third:

.

I have received "wicked girls saving ourselves" in the mail already, and all I can say is: Wow! It packs as much punch for me in reality as it did in the picture. For all intents and purposes, I am a wicked girl saving myself. And having such a lovely pendant, textured by a dried flower, red iridescence over pure black, all strung on a red ribbon (easily switched out with a cord): well, it just makes me want to strut a little straighter.

I can't wait to receive "Glimmers in the Dark" or finish up negotiations on "Firebird Outside of Time."

For the vernal equinox, Mia debuted a huge collection of new pendants. Completely unsurprisingly, they're almost all gone. Completely surprisingly, on the other hand, are the ones that haven't sold:

. .

Can you believe those gorgeous pieces are still available? I can't! And, if I had more money, they wouldn't be. But it's lucky for you, dear friends-- you still have the opportunity to secure these remarkable creations for your own.

Thank you, Mia, for your friendship and your creativity. You are enchanting.

(If you are interested in any of her pendants, hie you over to chimera_fancies. The "Beautiful Magician" pendant is actually available from her first posting, while all the others are in her most recent Vernal Equinox update.)

By many accounts, two great men died today (although, for some, one of them died tomorrow). Arthur C. Clarke has retired from this material life, with nary a shower of stars to mark his passing. Anthony Minghella, well known for directing The English Patient (among other things), fell prey to complications following surgery.

Now, I'm not familiar with the following of Mr. Minghella. I am, however, rather familiar with the fannish kith and kin of Arthur C. Clarke. The echoes of his death are spreading across cyberspace, out into the world, and mourning follows.

The science fiction community is congregating in groups, the bereaved loosely united and circulating among clusters in the vast cyberspace-cum-wake of Livejournal, blogs, bulletin boards, and e-mailing lists. And, as invariably occurs at one of these gatherings, someone has uttered the tried and true adage: "We are all diminished."

Yet this time I blink at the adage, momentarily blinded by something. I agree entirely: the world of science fiction is diminished by Clarke's passing. The landscape of the science fiction world is changed, and ideas recently preparing to be shaped by Clarke's pen have fallen back into chaos. But the word diminished haunts me. That blinding light is still there: an exploding star, super-nova, flashing out into the universe.

But not necessarily gone. Exploding stars can become parts of new stars and new planets. A dying star does not always and invariably diminish the universe: it replenishes the universe. It can make it a brighter and more dazzling place.

I wonder: why do we never reflect on this replenishment? Why do we always sigh, eyes shining, and moan "we are all diminished"?

For my part, I would like to see these mourners rise up in the light of this most recent super-nova. Let yourself be dazzled by the power of Clarke's career. Share your most beloved stories so that his legacy as a Science Fiction Giant lives on. Create. Let your own work, be it artistic creation or astronomical research or propagation of philosophy replenish the world around us.

Furthermore, do this always. No longer be content for the world to be diminished as great ones pass. No longer sigh and moan and carry on, a little more bowed in the face of the universe. Stand up and celebrate! Not only in the face of death: we should acknowledge those persons wherever we find them, those who are currently illuminating the world in new ways, for they are already replenishing us.

To this end, I would like to acknowledge the death of the brilliant Arthur C. Clarke and also the growth of the scintillating MCA Hogarth. Even as one Grand Old Man of SF leaves us, we have a trailblazer getting into the hearts and minds of alien culture.

We are diminished, yet also are we replenished.

I just finished reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. Surprisingly for only the third time in my life, considering how much I love Hurston's writing and this story in particular.

Although I think this book contains some Truths, I must admit it's a woman's book. That and the fact that a lot of the book is in a specific dialect seems to be preventing my students (mostly male) from reading it and reading it well. Except for the smart girl. She's done just fine.

Sigh. Anyway, while I go off and make the final quiz, allow me to leave you with some of my favorite quotes from the book:

"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now, women forget all those things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly."

"So the beginning of this was a woman and she had come back from burying the dead. Not the dead of sick and ailing with friends at the pillow and the feet. She had come back from the sodden and the bloated; the sudden dead, their eyes flung wide open in judgment."

"Janie saw her life like a great tree in leaf with the things suffered, things enjoyed, things done and undone. Dawn and doom was in the branches."

"She was stretched on her back beneath the pear tree soaking in the alto chant of the visiting bees, the gold of the sun and the panting breath of the breeze when the inaudible voice of it all came to her. She saw a dust-bearing bee sink into the sanctum of a bloom; the thousand sister-calyxes arch to meet the love embrace and the ecstatic shiver of the tree from root to tiniest branch creaming in every blossom and frothing with delight. So this was a marriage! She had been summoned to behold a revelation. Then Janie felt a pain remorseless sweet that left her limp and languid."

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."

"She knew things that nobody had ever told her. For instance, the words of the trees and the wind. She often spoke to falling seeds and said, 'Ah hope you fall on soft ground' because she had heard seeds saying that to each other as they passed. She knew the world was a stallion rolling in the blue pasture of ether. She knew that God tore down the old world every evening and built a new one by sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the gray dust of its making. The familiar people and things had failed her so she hung over the gate and looked up the road towards way off. She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie's first dream was dead, so she became a woman."

"They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God."

"Love is lak de sea. It's uh movin' thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it's different with every shore."

"Two things everybody's got tuh do fuh theyselves. They got tuh go tuh God, and they got tuh find out about livin' fuh theyselves."

"The light in her hand was like a spark of sun-stuff washing her face in fire."

"She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see."

Here's my philosophy on February 14th, what has slowly evolved from my own reflections and the ruminations of friends (like copperwise):

Valentine's Day, February 14th, is a day set aside to celebrate love in all forms.

It's not just a romantic holiday, specifically designed to make the "rich in love" seem richer and the "poor in love" contemplate suicide after a few gin and tonics. It shouldn't be a commercial holiday where people feel compelled to show their love through the purchasing of chocolates, flowers, and trinkets.

It is a day, simply, to celebrate love: affection, fondness, philia, agape, eros, and on. It is a day to turn to your friends, and say that you care. A day to spend time with your family, in addition to the private time you seek with a sweetheart. It is a day to see that love is all around you.

This is the Valentine's Day that I celebrate. This is the message I will spread to my friends and teach to my children. It is an important attitude to hold in the face of the commercial crassness to which society tries to bind us.

In a way, I'm going back to kindergarten. I've got a sack full of Valentines for ALL of you, and maybe some sweets too. You are my friends and you are cared for.

(Note: Really, I think that every day in one's life should be a celebration of love. However, people get distracted and down and sometimes forget, so it's good to have a specific holiday set aside to kick one in the pants and remind them of what you should always see and do.)

Today, I left Valentines for many of you at 021408.

I texted my brothers and took them cards.

I took my grandfather a mini-Whitman's sampler and a card, along with a hug.

I called my mom to tell her I love her.

And I wrote this post to all of you.

sirandrew took me out for a lovely lunch at Olive Garden, and gave me a heart-shaped box of ferrero rochet as a physical manifestation of his love that wasn't required but well appreciated. Plus a red balloon! And I'm about to cook us a nice supper of stir-fry and serve up some cocktails.

And I'm leaving him with this:

( Fragile, a short poem written for Andy in 2001... )

P.S. It was Tiger Jack's birthday today! So we brought home some catnip for both kitties. I tried to put some in the little toys that went along with it and promptly spilled it all over the floor instead. This all, plus the toys, plus a balloon that Andy got me, resulted in lots of entertaining cat-action this afternoon (some of which I got videos of). More on that later!

"Green Dream" was rejected from the publication I sent it to, alas.

However, life marches on and my career's poised to go with it.

Either tonight or tomorrow, I'll send it to the next market.

The first-pass edit has been completed!

One of my beta readers, glorious soul that she is, has replied to me with comments!

The story does not suck!

Hallelujah!

Yesterday, I watched The Godfather for the first time.

I can't believe that I'd never seen this film before. It's absolutely brilliant: remarkable acting, amazingly well-paced for its length, and intoxicating in its characterization both of individuals and collectives.

Really, I just enjoyed myself immensely watching this film. Until things started going poorly for the Corleone family, and then I sat in nervous anticipation. And then, at the end, I was transfixed by inevitability and sorrow.

Having been subjected to Godfather impersonations since I was a wee one, thanks to the Godfather being such a pop icon, I was concerned that Marlon Brando's performance as Don Corleone would be over-the-top. Luckily, that was a function of caricature and not a manifestation of the base attributes. Brando was brilliant.

Also, and I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I went through the whole movie wondering about Michael, the youngest son. "What a handsome devil!" I kept thinking to myself. "I wonder who that is playing him?" And "What a familiar nose!" You can bet my face met my palm when I realized it was Al Pacino.

I don't really have time to write a deeper review, but there you have it. I'm eager to watch the next one when I have a chunk of time.